Good-bye to you, my buck of red fox hide,
The autumn wars have taken yet another,
I marvel at the naked bones of pride
That say you made good hunting, O, my brother.
There are no songs for we of antlered tongue
Except the wind-horn and its lonely blowing.
A strangely austere sound for one so young,
But you shall have white blankets at its going.
Salute you deer that pass with icy breath.
Though you will never run as stags together.
The great intangible that men call death
Has come to one of us with woodsmoke weather.
Sandra, when you write about a deer, it brings to my memory about a sparrow that died on my work table in the office about 20 years back. On that I wrote a poem 'A Tear for a bird'. We the animal lovers do feel even for the death of an innocent animal. We should learn many lessons from these animals. As a tribute to all the animals and birds, I wrote my poem 'Who is superior? ' It compares man with all the animals in the world and among them man is the weakest creature, who is able to control them only with his whips and weapons. You have given your best tribute to an innocent deer, which would not have normally expected this kind of a tear from the human kingdom.
I live in an area surrounded by deer and am forever in awe of their grace and beauty.The voice of the poem captured the deer's beauty and innocence. I particularly liked these lines: 'But you shall have white blankets at its going.' 'The great intangible that men call death Has come to one of us with woodsmoke weather.' Glad you found this poem amongst your notebooks. Warmest wishes, Justine
how beautifully done Sandra, thank you for the dedication! love starr
Though you will never run as stags together. The great intangible that men call death Rachel Ann Butler
the great intangible: death....sandra let me tell you something that is shocking... sometimes our pet animals take away this greatest intangible by sacrificing their life just to save us... it happened in my life... our dear pets live for us and sometime sacrifice their life for us......
If you had told me that you had written this yesterday, I would have believed you. Your poetic skill and descriptive prowess are constant and on-going. 'I marvel at the naked bones of pride That say you made good hunting, O, my brother.' These lines, I particularly enjoyed, the gentle touch of irony adding weight to this deeply felt poem about the death of an animal those boundless buoyancy and grace is legendary. Love, Alison ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
The poetic utterances that I like in this poem are: the naked bones of pride - antlered tongue - the wind-horn and its lonely blowing. - icy breath - woodsmoke weather.
I can't better Will barber here - so what's new? . There is remarkable continuity in your work in terms of depth, emotional power, and technical accomplishment. Every one a feast for the senses and emotions. I never leave your page without feeling that you've set a few waves in motion in the inner sea. Wonderful poetry Sandra - as ever. xx jim
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Another great pastel painting which hides the fragrance of death' the great intangible' Yes it's like woodsmoke (frankincense) .